


Huddling

by LuxaLucifer



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 18:43:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5344559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuxaLucifer/pseuds/LuxaLucifer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The elf was….attractive. Loghain was past fifty and had just lost everything. He was a widower, a father, a pariah, a traitor. And he wanted to press his lips to that elf’s smart mouth and forget all of that for a few brief moments. The elf seemed to want that too, for some reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Huddling

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by thesxmmersword, but a fic I know presidentwarden has a vested interest in- Zevran/Loghain cuddles, as promised!

“Oh, is this where you like to hide away?”

“I’m not hiding,” said Loghain, glancing up at the assassin. “Did you come here to make another joke about my hiring you?”

“Only if you’d like to hire me for another service,” said Zevran, smile spreading across his face as he winked.

The elf was….attractive. Loghain was past fifty and had just lost everything. He was a widower, a father, a pariah, a traitor. And he wanted to press his lips to that elf’s smart mouth and forget all of that for a few brief moments. The elf seemed to want that too, for some reason.

“So what is it you do in this tent off to yourself if it’s not to hide away?” said Zevran, poking his head all the way in.

“I sleep,” said Loghain. “And I prepare for the day in the morning. I don’t spend a lot of time in my tent.”

“What, you don’t…” began Zevran, making an obscene motion with his hand.

“Not often,” said Loghain, cocking an eyebrow and returned his gaze to the sword he’d been trying to clean.

“You surprised me,” said Zevran, reaching over and tugging on one of Loghain’s braids. “I was expecting you to blush and splutter.”

Loghain shrugged. “I’m a soldier. I’ve heard far worse than you could throw at me.”

“I can throw quite a lot at you,” said Zevran. “Mind if I come in?”

“Fine,” said Loghain. “Zip the tent up behind you.”

The air was cold, almost frigid. The Warden had insisted they go to the Frostback Mountains to find some person or other for some group, and they had faithfully followed, even if it meant seeing your breath and constantly searching for more laters.

Zevran clambered in. “Oh, it’s chilly in here,” he said, pulling his supple leather boots off. “I guess that’s because you’re so far from the fire, huh?”

“I suppose so,” said Loghain, sheathing his sword. He wouldn’t get anything else done. “But I have lots of blankets.”

“You certainly do,” said Zevran. “Do you mind if I get under them with you?”

Loghain hesitated. Zevran had been polite enough to ask, and it was very cold. Loghain had many blankets- but not enough. He seemed to get colder the older he was. “Okay.”

“Really?” The second request for permission was the clincher for Loghain and he grunted another yes. Zevran reached over, not to tug on Loghain’s braids like he thought, but to run a hand through his hair.

They’d spent some time together. Not only out with the Warden, who did seem to prefer them as company, but with each other. The only one (other than the lovely dog) who seemed to do more than tolerate his presence was the assassin- without him he’d be eating alone, training alone, even fighting alone without proper teamwork.

“Are you just messing around?” said Loghain, trying to keep his gaze away from Zevran’s face, his tattoos, his dark eyes and the thick eyelashes framing them, the way his lips curved up when he smirked. He was failing utterly.

“What would give you that idea?” said Zevran. He blinked, sly knowing written into his every pore.

“Are you?” said Loghain. “I’m too old for games.”

Zevran moved his hand from Loghain’s hair and cupped a cheek. His hands were calloused, much like Loghain’s own. They were warm, too, and Loghain found himself letting the assassin turn his head.

“May I kiss you?” said Zevran, mere inches away from Loghain, close enough that Loghain imagined he could feel those eyelashes brush him.

Loghain’s answer came from the back of his throat, a hoarse grunt that barely manifested as a “Yes.”

Zevran’s lips were warm. The hand on Loghain’s cheek dragged against his stubble, ending with tilting his chin towards Zevran. He was an expert at this, Loghain could feel it in every drag of teeth against his lips, the way he pushed Loghain’s mouth open and elicited sinful moans from the older man.

“You’re loud,” murmured the assassin. “I didn’t expect that.”

“I wonder how loud you can make me,” said Loghain, pushing back against Zevran, their noses bumping as he deepened the kiss.

“Is that a challenge?” said Zevran, voice low and throaty.

“Not one for tonight,” said Loghain, pulling away. “It’s freezing in here.”

“So how about I warm you up?”

“I said-”

“I know what you said,” said Zevran. “But are you really so opposed to cuddling?”

Loghain couldn’t help but smirk. “You do know who you’re talking to?”

“Yes,” said Zevran. “I do. The big scary Teyrn…and if he lets me, I’d like to whisper sweet nothings in his ear as we huddle for warmth.”

“We can at least huddle for warmth,” said Loghain. “Is it all right that I sleep with my shirt off?”

“Even in this cold?”

“I have you to make up for it.”

Loghain could hardly listen to himself. He should be doing…a lot of things, none of which involved the assassin. Praying for forgiveness in a Chantry, perhaps.

Maker, did he have so much to ask forgiveness for.

He pulled his shirt off, pulling the blankets over himself the moment he’d done so, the chill threatening to seep into his bones the moment he did so. Zevran took his own shirt off despite his previous complaint. When he joined Loghain under the covers Loghain couldn’t help but let out a small sign of contentment. The assassin was warm and he liked the way Zevran snaked his arms around Loghain’s waist, pulling him into Zevran’s much smaller chest.

“You’ve got a lot more hair than I expected,” said Zevran, kissing Loghain’s shoulder blade from behind.

Loghain chuckled. “I’ve heard that before.”

One of Zevran’s hands rubbed soft circles into Loghain’s chest, relaxing the older man. “Why me?” mumbled Loghain, getting tired more easily than he’d expected.

“I like you,” said Zevran. “Do I need any more reason than that?” The words were teasing, but the tone was soft and sincere. Loghain shifted into Zevran further. He liked feeling the other man’s toned chest against his back.

“I suppose not,” he said, voice rumbling from deep in his chest. “I might actually sleep tonight.”

“Do you normally not?”

“No,” said Loghain simply. “I don’t.”

Zevran didn’t reply except to lean up and around, using his elbow to balance himself as he leaned in and kissed Loghain chastely on the lips. Loghain shook his head, smiling. “You’re corny,” he said.

“You deserve a little bit of that, no? A little bit of corniness will do a troubled heart good.”

When Zevran went back to his position behind Loghain, he turned so that he was facing Zevran, pulling the last of the blankets over them before snuggling in close enough that their chests were pressed together. He tucked his head under the assassin’s. He liked being able to hear Zevran’s heartbeat.

“Goodnight, mi amore,” said Zevran softly.

He didn’t even think to ask what that meant before he was asleep.


End file.
